


tarnished silver

by orphan_account



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/M, Multi, Patronuses as Pokemon Aces, i have no clue how to tag this, low brain juice, will edit these tags later! there will be some unhappy moments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:00:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27398383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into,” says Gloria evenly, fixing Bede with a gaze as hard as granite. “But I’m not going to let you go it alone.”
Relationships: Beet | Bede/Yuuri | Gloria, Hop & Yuuri | Gloria, Mary | Marnie & Yuuri | Gloria
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	tarnished silver

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT APPROVE OF JK ROWLING THE TERF. i will fight my hardest to make feminism a safe space for trans and nonbinary folks, you rock!! if my language is outdated, tell me! hhhhhhhgh

Gloria holds her wand arm steady. She envisions a bright rabbit springing into existence, particles of light emitting from its hind legs. Or maybe she’ll produce a lion for a Patronus, as regal and rarefied as Godric himself. Either way, her Patronus is going to be bloody magnificent, if only she could get it to bloody _work_.

“Fix your stance,” Bede says. He turns a page in his book and yawns. “You look like you’re trying to lay an egg.”

”Shut it,” Gloria snaps. She sucks in a breath. “ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

A sad trail of mist erupts from the tip of her wand. It hovers for a second, giving her hope, before dissipating into formless white.

Bede watches her, chin in hand. “What’s the memory you’ve chosen?”

“The treacle tart I had for dessert yesterday.”

Bede’s frown makes his entire face look like a wrinkled napkin. He does this whenever she’s been careless with her spellwork, almost as if her academic failures affronted him personally. He makes a similar face after she returns from the Quidditch pitch muddied and covered in sweat.

“Did you even listen in class yesterday? Piers explained things very clearly.”

“I listened,” Gloria sighs. “But… could you remind me, maybe?”

“This is what happens after you’ve been bludgeoned in the head too many times during Quidditch.”

Gloria raises her wand again and yells: “ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ”

Bede levitates out of his chair with a surprised yelp.

“Gloria!” he rages. “Put me _down_!”

“Only if you stop being such a prick!”

“How am _I_ being the prick at the moment? You’re the one pointing your wand at me!”

The door to the classroom they’re using swings open with a creak.

“Thought I heard your dulcet tones,” says Hop. He takes one look at Bede floating upside down in the air and grins wickedly. “We testing our spells out on Bede again?”

Gloria twirls her wand, and Bede copies the motion with his entire body.

“ _Gloria!_ ”

Bede lands in his chair again with a surprised grunt.

“See? My spellwork is just fine,” Gloria says.

“I never said anything about your spellwork,” Bede snaps. “I was referring to the poorly chosen memory for your Patronus Charm. They won’t work unless they’re incandescently happy.”

Hop sets his bag down on the nearest desk and slides into a chair. “You two are already practising Patronus Charms? Blimey. Our class hasn’t even hit that unit yet.”

“Rumour has it that they’re adding it to the N.E.W.T. in Defence Against the Dark Arts this year,” Gloria informs him. She nods at Bede. “This one’s the only person in our class who can cast it.”

Hop raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Gloria would do just fine if she actually listened in class,” Bede says.

“I _do_ listen!”

“Then why would you pick yesterday’s subpar treacle tart as your happiest memory?”

Hop bursts out laughing. “Gloria, no,” he says.

Gloria throws her hands into the air, knocking off one of her earrings in the process. “I just _can’t_ with you pretentious Ravenclaws. You’re all insufferable.”

“That’s rich, coming from a Gryffindor.” Bede nods at Hop. “I’m sure even our Hufflepuff agrees.”

“Oi,” Hop protests. “Don’t drag me into this.”

“If Marnie were here, _she’d_ back me up.”

“Marnie thinks anything you say or do is precious. She’s biased, so her thoughts don’t count.”

Their glaring match has Hop turning his head back and forth to watch them both.

“...Sooo,” Hop says. “Anyone up for dinner?”

Right on cue, his stomach growls.

Bede’s lip curls. “Dinner ended two hours ago.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m thinking of heading down to Hogsmeade for something fried and greasy. Either of you comin’ with?”

“Me,” says Gloria at once. She grabs her bag and cloak, storming out the door without so much as a backwards glance.

Hop stares after her. Then he looks sideways at Bede.

“How about you?”

“I’ll pass,” says Bede in a bored voice. He turns a page in his book and doesn’t bother with looking up.

“Suit yourself, mate. See you.”

  
  


-

  
  


“Have you ever cast a proper Patronus?” Gloria asks Hop as they trudge down the path to Hogsmeade together.

“Can’t say that I have,” Hop says with a shrug. “Lee has, though.”

“Well, of course he has.” Everyone at Hogwarts knew about Leon’s majestic dragon Patronus, the largest of its kind.

“I can’t remember how old he was the first time he managed it. Maybe during his… fifth year?” Hop wonders aloud.

“Did he ever tell you which memory he used?”

“Nope,” says Hop dejectedly. “I’ve asked him many, many times.”

They arrive at the Hog’s Head Inn and take their usual seat by the window, ordering two butterbeers and some fish and chips. The bartender takes one look at them, sighs, and begrudgingly gets to work on their dinner.

Hop leans forward, a familiar glint in his eye. “You think he snitches on students to Professor Oleana? Victor told me he got busted last month for skiving off Potions.”

“I dunno,” says Gloria. “Victor’s always in trouble, though.”

“Ah. True.”

Their dinner arrives in baskets overflowing with steaming food, crinkly paper barely containing the grease within. Hop burns his tongue after the first bite. He fans his mouth dramatically for a minute, suddenly remembers he’s a wizard, and pulls out his wand to take care of it.

Gloria chews her dinner and looks out the window. There’s a young couple snogging outside.

“I ought to jinx them,” she says.

Hop looks over with a chip dangling from his mouth. “Oh. Ugh, yeah. Can’t believe they’d do that in public.”

“What’s the jinx that makes you wet yourself again? Fuck, I always forget these stupid Latin words—”

“I dunno either,” Hop says through a mouthful of fish. “Too bad our resident Ravenclaw didn’t join us. He’d know for sure.”

“And he’d lecture us for not knowing it already,” Gloria grumbles. “I’ll pass.”

Hop’s eyes stay on the side of her face for a bit longer than usual.

Gloria bats her lashes. “Fallen for me, have you?”

“Hell no,” Hop snorts and takes a long pull on his butterbeer. The wavy glass distorts his features, but through it Gloria can see his lips struggling not to smile.

“Come now. Denying things only makes it worse.”

“Speaking of denial,” says Hop. “Let’s talk about Bede, shall we?”

“I should’ve known you’d spring this on me,” Gloria says with a groan. “That’s why you wanted to have dinner together, isn’t it?”

Hop flashes her a cheeky smile. “Clever girl. Knew you should’ve been sorted into Ravenclaw.”

“I would’ve brought down the entire House’s IQ, if that’s what you mean.”

“Rubbish. If nothing else, you’d vastly improve their chances of winning the Quidditch Cup this year.”

“You had a point to this, right?”

“Oh. Right,” Hop nods while balling up a grease-stained napkin. “Did you end up telling him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Gloria drums her fingers against the table. “Because I’m scared.”

Hop looks like he desperately wants to crack a joke at Gryffindor’s expense, but her face seems to change his mind. Maybe Gloria looks more pathetic than she feels.

“He won’t say no,” Hop says.

“The double negative isn’t helping,” Gloria says dismissively. “Just admit that you’ve no idea how to give advise on stuff like this.”

“I’d like to think that out of the three of us, I’m the one with the most relationship experience,” Hop bristles.

“But you and Marnie broke up.”

“And who have _you_ broken up with?”

Gloria opens her mouth to answer, but there’s honestly nothing to say. No pithy rejoinders, no long list of names.

“Thought so,” says Hop. He starts picking at her untouched chips, muttering something about claiming his victory.

“I don’t like feeling this way,” Gloria says.

“Being attracted to someone?” Hop asks her, cocking an eyebrow. “I mean, I really don’t see what you fancy about _Bede_ , but we all have our vices. It’s perfectly normal to feel this way.”

“Not for me,” Gloria says stubbornly. “I don’t like men, remember?”

“I thought you didn’t like misogyny and excessive facial hair. Don’t remember you ever claiming to dislike men in general.”

“Let’s stop being clever for one minute now,” Gloria says. “I’m serious, Hop. I hate feeling like this. I don’t do well with vulnerability or… pining.” She shudders and pulls a face.

“Want me to pass him a letter for you? You could do it the old-fashioned way. Write it up tonight and have Bede receive it by Owl tomorrow morning. He’ll read your confession over his eggs and--”

“Hop.”

“Sorry, sorry. No more cheek,” Hop says, chastened.

Gloria pops a few more pieces of dinner into her mouth. It’s slightly cold by now, but the taste is fine. Can’t go wrong with comfort food when you actually need the comfort.

“D’you know what form his Patronus takes?” she asks Hop.

“Er… a wasp? Something venomous and mean-spirited?”

“No,” says Gloria. “An elephant.”

“Really? That must be huge.”

“It’s not. It looks sort of frail, if you ask me. Sometimes it even flickers like static. Piers didn’t address it during class, but I did catch him frowning at it during our practical demonstrations.”

“You think Piers is worried?”

“It’s hard to tell,” says Gloria with a heavy sigh. “Maybe I’m just reading into it too much.”

“That must be it. But I get it,” says Hop gently. “I know how you get around Bede sometimes.”

  
  


-

  
  
  


Gloria soars across the pitch in a dazzling flash of scarlet. Bede watches her from the Ravenclaw stands, halfway bored to tears. He makes it a point to bring a book whenever he attends these things.

Hop, hovering in front of Hufflepuff’s goal posts, beams at Gloria from across the way. They pull goofy faces at each other and make rude gestures. Captain Bea shouts at Gloria to keep her head in the bloody game, and half the students in Gryffindor’s stands roar with laughter and cheers. Hop’s Captain, on the other hand, doesn’t even notice.

Hufflepuff’s team is solid this year, but they really can’t compare to the combined might of Gryffindor. This year they’ve a hawk-eyed Seeker and three competent Chasers, a burly Third Year who keeps watch over their goal posts, and then their two beaters: Bea and Gloria, who clobber practically anyone with well-aimed clubs. Add this all together and Gryffindor had an easy shot at the Cup.

Bede had tried out for Ravenclaw’s team once. He’d been an overconfident first year with a first-rate broomstick.

He hadn’t made the cut. He’d fumbled every ball sent his way, and then nearly brained himself on the closest goal post.

Gloria sat with him afterwards, uncharacteristically quiet.

" _Don’t_ tell my father,” Bede warned her, eyes red and swollen.

Gryffindor wins by a landslide, and the whole damn stadium erupts in cheers. Bede’s eyes find the tiny speck that is Gloria easily. She’s flying loops around her teammates and laughing, voice carrying above everyone else’s.

Later, Bede meets Gloria and Hop down by the changing rooms. Marnie spots him as they’re leaving the pitch and makes her way over.

“Surprised t’ see you ‘ere,” Marnie tells him, bumping their shoulders together.

“I love Quidditch,” Bede deadpans. “Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“Har har.” Morpeko, Marnie’s pet rat, pokes his little head out of her pocket and squeaks at him.

“Bede! Marnie!” Hop calls, waving as he approaches.

“Great match, mate,” Marnie says.

“Thanks, but we still lost by 80 effing points,” Hop sighs. “Bloody Gloria kept benching all of our players. Whoever thought to give her that club should be sent to Azkaban, I tell you.”

Gloria comes up from behind and shakes Hop by the shoulders. She’s so _loud_ after a Quidditch game. Especially when Gryffindor wins.

“No one likes a sore loser,” she sing-songs, slinging an arm around Hop’s shoulders.

“M’ not sore,” Hop mutters. “Just a tad salty.”

Gloria’s good mood is unshakeable; she won’t be deterred. “Why don’t we head out for drinks to celebrate?” she asks.

“I’m in,” Marnie says.

“Fine,” Bede says.

Hop’s shoulders slump. “I have to finish my Potions homework. I’ll catch up with you all later. Don’t leave without me, yeah?”

  
  


-

  
  


“An elephant? Really?”

Marnie goggles at Bede like he’s suddenly transformed into an elephant himself.

“Yes,” Bede says curtly. “Is there a problem with that?”

“No, just…”

“It’s not common for English wizards,” Gloria says. “That’s what Piers said, anyway.”

“I don’t remember him saying that,” Bede says. He frowns at Gloria and taps a finger against the rim of his glass. “Why is it that you only remember non-essential things?”

Marnie nudges Gloria’s foot under the table.

“What memory did you use?” she asks Bede.

Neither of them misses the flash of sorrow across Bede’s face. It’s there and gone in an instant.

“A generic one from my childhood. That’s what our textbook suggests.”

“Huh.” Marnie looks thoughtful, head tilting back as she stares at the ceiling. “My bro’s Patronus used to be different, y’know.”

Gloria and Bede exchange a look. They’d seen Piers’ Patronus very briefly in class: a massive gray wolf with a snarling maw. It ran laps around their classroom and snapped at random things floating in the air, overcome by its own manic energy. When it finally reached the cabinet housing the Boggart, it reared its mighty head back and howled.

“What was it before?” Gloria asks.

“A skunk.”

Gloria meets Marnie’s eyes and the two of them start giggling. Bede doesn’t join in, opting instead to drain more of his glass.

“What made it change?” he asks.

“No idea.”

“Did something happen?”

“Like a tragedy or somethin’?”

“No, something… happy. A new memory to make his Patronus take a stronger form.”

Marnie frowns, stumped.

“Leon’s used to be a tiny salamander, according to Hop,” Gloria pipes up. “It changed after puberty. Maybe that means it’s just naturally attuned to stages of human development?”

“No, because there have been cases reported where one’s Patronus stays the same for life,” Bede shakes his head. “So long as you have a memory dear to you, it should always manifest in one form or another.”

“Sounds like ya know lots about it,” Marnie observes.

“Well, I read,” says Bede drily.

“I do too, but I didn’t know any o’ that. An’ my bro’s the bloody Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.”

Bede shrugs, but has nothing else to say on the matter.

“I wish I could do it properly,” mutters Gloria. “They’ll never accept me as an Auror if I can’t manage a charm like this.”

“It just takes time,” Bede says in a surprisingly gentle voice.

Marnie nods. “You’ll manage it sooner or later,” she says.

“Cheers, you two.”

  
  


-

  
  


The following day, right after History of Magic wraps up, Gloria spots Bede strolling down the fourth-floor corridor from a distance.

“Oi! Bede!” she calls. When he doesn’t hear her, she slips past her distracted classmates to run after him.

Bede keeps walking until the familiar paintings and classrooms fade away, leaving only dimly burning torches and the flickering of strange shadows. It grows so quiet and shadowed, in fact, that Gloria half expects a poltergeist to fly out of the darkness screaming. That’s probably just her overactive imagination from watching one too many horror films, but the fear is hardly misplaced at a place as ancient as Hogwarts.

If it wanted to, the school could easily find a way to silence her forever. Gloria knows the stories. Students vanish from their beds in the middle of the night, never to be found again. Students get trapped in different dimensions after taking a wrong turn down in the dungeons. Just last term, a terrified second year fell into the toilet and never came up. Rumours claim that he’s living at the bottom of the Black Lake with the Giant Squid now.

The footfalls just ahead of her come to a stop.

“Bede?” Gloria asks.

Her voice echoes. Casting a quick _Lumos_ to light her path forward, Gloria proceeds slowly, keeping her eyes peeled for any sign of Bede.

She eventually reaches a tall wooden door at the end of the passage.

It’s deceptively quaint. There are no peculiar markings, no signs of dangerous magic. But it’s not like Gloria would be able to confirm this on her own; she’s a far cry from being an Auror.

She was sorted into Gryffindor for a reason, though.

Gloria turns the brass handle and gives it a hard push. The hinges creak with what must be centuries-old rust, eerily reminding her of a child screaming.

Gloria spots Bede’s platinum-blond curls over a shelf of chittering books. A quick look around reveals that most of the room looks the same way: dusty shelves bursting with ancient tomes, piles upon piles of odd, clinking curios. Gloria even notices a broken broomstick that looks eerily similar to Hop’s old model.

She takes a step forward. The door immediately slams shut behind her.

Bede’s voice cracks like a whip. “Who’s there?”

He’s standing nearby, wand raised and face drained of all colour.

“Bede,” Gloria says. “It’s just me.”

Bede spins in her direction and freezes. “Gloria?” he says, lowering his wand.

“Yeah.” She walks over to Bede and stares at the rickety old cabinet he’s working on. “What’s this?”

“A project,” Bede says cryptically. “For class.”

“Huh. For which one?”

“Transfiguration.”

“How’s it coming along?”

Bede lowers his eyes, unsteady. “I don’t know,” he says.

Gloria nods slowly. “Can I help?”

  
  


-

  
  


She isn’t much help after all, but Bede doesn’t tell her to go away.

“Do you remember Transfiguration our first year?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then you know what I’m going to say, don’t you?”

“If this is about Allister--”

“--oh, you know it is. I still can’t forget the look on Professor Kabu’s face when he transfigured his teacup into a--”

“--a pair of white undies, yes, I know,” says Bede, but Gloria doesn’t miss his faint smile.

“Do you still see him a lot in your common room?”

“Not really,” says Bede, distracted. He’s waving his wand in intricate shapes, creating all sorts of sparkling lights and whirling colours.

“Bea worries about him a lot,” says Gloria. “Sometimes she talks in her sleep.”

“He’ll never grow up if she keeps coddling him.”

Gloria sighs. “Do you ever have anything positive to say?”

“If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to leave,” says Bede without heat.

Something glows inside of the cabinet for a second. Bede pulls open the door with an expectant look, eager for results, but there’s nothing but dust bunnies inside. His shoulders slump with disappointment.

“What are you trying to accomplish, anyway?” Gloria asks him.

“This is a Vanishing Cabinet,” says Bede. “I’m trying to repair it.”

“What does it do?”

“It’s a portal of sorts. But unlike Portkeys or Apparation, it allows direct passage into Hogwarts.”

“So they bypass the wards,” says Gloria.

“Full marks.”

Gloria watches as Bede inspects every corner for something she can’t see.

“Why?”

Bede looks at her. “Pardon?”

“Why do you need to fix it?”

Bede opens his mouth. He halts, his face reflecting the inner turmoil of his thoughts.

“That’s a secret,” he says.

  
  


-

  
  


Charms with Professor Opal is easily the worst part of Bede’s day.

“Off-target again, child,” she tells Bede, correcting his wand arm with the tip of her cane. Bede bristles, his magic flaring up and making his chest hurt. Opal simply watches him with her usual calm. Her lips curve with approval as he slowly, painfully reigns it back in.

“You’re improving,” she says.

 _No thanks to you, you old bat,_ he wants to snap.

Opal’s eyes shine with mirth, but she keeps her jokes to herself. Bede’s fine with that. Opal is no stranger to making an example of any student foolish enough to sass her. Bede spent all of his first year heading to the deputy headmistress’ office for precisely this reason.

After Charms finishes, Bede skips lunch at the Great Hall in favour of heading to the fourth floor again.

Gloria’s already waiting for him.

“You’re late,” she says, handing him an apple she’d filched from the kitchens. He bites into it and murmurs a soft ‘thanks’ with his mouth full.

They work on the cabinet again today. Gloria knows quite a few woodworking spells, and she flexes all of them for the sake of helping Bede. Bede doesn’t know if he should be impressed or irritated by how eager she is.

Mostly he ignores the swooping feeling he gets whenever she looks at him for too long. It’s unsettling. He coughs when she makes him laugh too openly. She’s his oldest, and perhaps only friend, but she’s still not _his_ , not really.

“I asked Marnie about your class project,” she says.

Bede’s breath catches in his throat. He keeps working, pretending to be unfazed. “Oh?”

“She said there’s no such thing. Professor Kabu hasn’t assigned a project yet.”

“It’s extra credit,” Bede says without missing a beat.

“Uh huh,” Gloria says. “I find that hard to believe. Why would the top student need extra credit?”

“Does it matter to you that much?” Bede asks. Better to go on the offensive if she’s going to start sniffing around like this. Gloria never did learn to mind her own damn business.

The look she gives him is too calculating to be hers. She appraises him quietly, making note of his slip-ups: the bite to his tone, the shiftiness of his eyes, and undoubtedly the way his shoulders are quaking.

“...is it for the Headmaster?” she asks.

Bede’s hands drop to his sides. He lets out a gusty sigh.

“What does he need it for?” Gloria presses on.

“I didn’t ask,” Bede says in a clipped voice.

He doesn’t need to look at her to know she’s frowning.

“Bede—”

“What about you?” he cuts in. “What are _you_ still doing here? With your abysmal grades, you really ought to be spending time at the library instead. It would be a shame if you were the only seventh year not to graduate.”

There’s nothing fiery or defiant about the way she’s glaring at him. It’s just honest, and searing. Besides, she’s normally tougher than anything Bede can fling at her; sometimes she just brays with ugly laughter until he threatens her with a silencing charm. Insults are the currency that keeps their friendship running, after all. It’s how they express their love.

“I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into,” says Gloria evenly, fixing Bede with a gaze as hard as granite. “But I’m not going to let you go it alone.”

Gloria is quite possibly the most stubborn person he’s ever met. It’s something they have in common.

“Piss off,” Bede sighs, turning away.

  
  


-

  
  


“You look a’ fright, Gloria,” says Marnie.

“Do I?”

Marnie nods. “Come here,” she says, patting the spot next to her.

Gloria throws herself down onto it with a long sigh. The common room’s hearth crackles merrily by their feet, warming her up quickly. A few Slytherins shoot her disdainful looks as they walk by, angry that a Gryffindor is taking up space in their common room, but Marnie just flips them the bird and threatens to hex them if they keep it up.

“...am I really that stupid?” Gloria asks, apropos of nothing.

“Eh?”

Gloria looks at Marnie. “Am I?”

“Of course not.”

“I don’t know what to do in this situation,” Gloria mutters.

“What situation?” Marnie asks. She starts brushing her fingers through Gloria’s hair.

“Does your brother ever talk about the War?”

Marnie’s eyebrows shoot up. “What's this 'bout all o' a sudden?”

“He was an Auror before retiring from active duty, right? So he must have seen a lot of death and devastation.”

“Uh… I guess so,” Marnie nods slowly. “Why? You in th’ mood for murder?”

“No,” Gloria says with a frown. “Do you think we’ll ever have another one?”

“A war?” Marnie frowns. “Is that what you discussed in History of Magic today?”

“No, I—” Gloria stops herself and sighs. “I mean, yeah. We did.”

Marnie considers her for a moment. “You can always ask him, y’know.”

“Piers?”

“Yeah. You an’ Hop are his favourite students. Just don’t tell anyone else,” Marnie says. “Don’t tell my bro either.”

Maybe Piers would know what to do, then. The idea lifts some of the weight off of Gloria’s shoulders. Yes, that’s right—leave the heavy stuff to the adults.

“That’s a brilliant idea, Marnie,” Gloria says, squeezing Marnie’s hand in her lap.

Marnie smiles and pinches Gloria’s cheek. “Cute,” she says.

  
  


-

  
  


Piers’ office is more of a rehearsal space than anything.

Gloria’s only been here once, and that had been to write lines for detention. She’d been caught sneaking out past curfew to use the prefects’ bath. Her Head of House hadn’t been very pleased with her, but then, Gloria much preferred Piers’ disapproval over Oleana’s.

“You really wanted some bubbles that badly?” Piers had drawled at her at the time, before docking her twenty points.

Gloria can hear Piers singing softly through the door when she arrives. She knocks twice, loudly, and immediately the sound cuts off.

“Office hours are after six,” says Piers as he answers the door. “Oh.”

“H’lo,” says Gloria. “Mind if I come in?”

Piers blinks at her slowly as she lets herself inside. He always reminds her of an anthropomorphic sloth when he does this.

“You ‘ere to write more lines today? Whatcha do this time?”

“What can you tell me about Vanishing Cabinets?”

Piers frowns at her. He looks remarkably similar to Marnie when he does this. “...Why? You tryin’ t’ build one?”

“No, but my friend is.”

“Hop?”

“No,” Gloria says hastily. “It’s… um, someone you don’t know.”

Piers doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it drop. “Wha’ about them?”

“Do you think Headmaster Rose is in need of one?”

“Doubt it,” says Piers easily enough. “He can Apparate whenever he pleases. He’s the one who helped design the wards, after all.”

“I see…” Gloria trails off.

Piers takes a seat at his desk and starts rummaging around in his drawers. “So, your mate,” he says while bending over. “Are they in some kind of trouble?”

“I don’t know.”

A single eye blinks at her from across the desk. Piers straightens up again, his hands full of sweets. Gloria stares at them in confusion.

“I’m peckish,” is all Piers says. “Have some.”

“Do you think it’s dangerous?” she asks, taking a handful.

“Not inherently, but it depends on what they’re usin’ it for,” says Piers. “Do you know where its other half is?”

“No.”

Piers munches on a honey-coloured toffee. “Afraid I can’t help much, then.”

Gloria sighs, dragging a hand through her hair. Well, it had been a long shot, anyway.

“Come to me again if somethin’ else happens,” Piers says suddenly. “If you’re worried, or if your mate needs help. Can’t hurt to be careful.”

“I will,” says Gloria, already turning to go.

  
  


-

  
  


Bede misses Defence Against the Dark Arts one day, and none of the other seventh-year Ravenclaws know where he went.

They carry on with class like usual, but Gloria sits through the entire lecture on the edge of her seat. It might be her imagination too, but Piers seems to be glancing at Bede’s empty desk more often.

Hop and Marnie don’t know where Bede is either when Gloria sees them at lunch.

“He’s gone? Vanished, just like that?” Hop asks incredulously. “What, you think he decided to fuck off to the Maldives on holiday? Screw the N.E.W.T.s, it’s time to party?”

“Just because that’s what _you_ would do doesn’t mean Bede would do it,” Gloria sighs.

“Maybe he’s sleepin’,” says Marnie. “He could’ve asked his housemates to lie on his behalf. I’ve done that before when I was on my period.”

“I don’t think Bede’s on his period, though,” Hop says.

“He _has_ been a bit moodier lately. I thought I was the only one who’d noticed,” says Gloria.

The three of them fall silent when the familiar figure of the Headmaster passes them by. The deputy headmistress trails after him like a dedicated shadow. Her familiar, a black-scaled lizard with strange markings around its eyes, tilts its head to watch them as she passes.

“I swear that thing’s clairvoyant,” Hop says with a shudder.

“I think it’s cute,” says Marnie.

“Marnie, you think all creepy shite is cute--”

“Where do you think they’re off to?” Gloria interrupts with a frown. Hop and Marnie stop to look over.

“Dunno. Meeting at the Ministry? Lunch date?”

“You think somethin’ is goin’ on?” Marnie asks Gloria.

“Well,” says Gloria uncertainly. “I don’t think Bede is asleep in his room. And I have a bad feeling about what those two are doing.”

  
  


-

  
  


Bede braces an arm against the closest wall and lets out a heavy breath.

It’s done. It’s finally, finally done.

This _stupid_ piece of wood and magic has taunted him all term with its convoluted mechanisms and stubborn refusal to work with his spells. He’s never had this issue before; he’s a top-rate wizard, the best in his class. Being defeated by a measly cabinet would have been absolutely unacceptable.

The irony, of course, is that Gloria’s spell is the one that did the trick.

“I was reading one of those books about broomstick craftsmanship,” she’d said, something shy and halting in her voice. “And this woodworking charm came up. It was really easy to use, so I just practised ‘til I got it.”

Bede would never have come across a charm like that on his own. He’d inherited most of his books from Rose, after all, and the instant Rose had discovered his lack of talent for Quidditch, he’d taken away everything remotely related to it. Books, training garments, the fancy glass vial of broomstick polish that had been a birthday gift, and even Bede’s brand new Firebolt. Everything gone, as if it had been _Evanesco_ ’d out of sight.

There’s poetic justice in the fact that Gloria would be the one to fill this gap in his knowledge for him. Not because she’s stupid (she really needs to address that complex of hers, she’s honestly the farthest thing from stupid about school), but because she’d given it to him freely. No conditions, no strings attached. One friend to another.

Bede has often wondered if it’s a Muggle custom to do so. How could you simply give parts of yourself away without expecting anything in return? Honestly, that’s the type of logic befitting Muggles and Muggles alone, what with their inane contraptions and arrogance, their reliance on hulking metal boxes and devices that beeped and flashed constantly. Rose detests Muggles in all of their forms. He’d made sure Bede felt the same.

Rose would _hate_ Gloria. If he knew--

Bede huffs a laugh. If he knew that a _Muggleborn’s_ spell had been the one to fix his sodding Vanishing Cabinet, what would he think? Would he turn purple with fury? Mudblood magic is an inferior variety, watered down and hopelessly imprecise.

“They’re not like us,” Rose had warned him as a child. They’d page through ancient family albums together. Rose always lingered on the photographs that had been blotted out by magic, faces and names slashed through with deep black. Bede had shuddered each time they came across these ghosts, and although Rose had never provided an explanation, he knew implicitly what they had done: liaised with Mudbloods, gave birth to Squibs. Tainted their family line with weakness and folly.

The unmarred photographs were positively cheery in comparison. So many faces with the same lines and complexion as Rose’s: regal patriarchs with silver-tinged beards and strong brows, delicate maidens with long black hair plaited down their backs. And always, always those olive-green eyes, framed by thick lashes, pulling you in with a false sense of security.

“Why aren’t mine like that?” Bede had asked him, insides squirming with discomfort.

Rose had said nothing, only turned to the next page.

He’s truly a master of shadows and duplicity, manipulating the impressions of the entire school and its decorated faculty. Headmaster Rose’s legacy will carry on for decades, a most noble house of the finest purebred stock.

And now it’s Gloria’s spell that will save its latest heir from complete and total failure.

The irony is so bitter that Bede can taste it like tonic on his tongue.

The exhaustion hits right after, making his shoulders slump and limbs feel heavy. He shuts the doors to the Vanishing Cabinet with trembling hands. Then, with one final glance at it, disappointed by the lack of triumph he’s feeling, Bede leaves through the back entrance.

  
  


-

  
  


Piers shocks all of them when he bursts into the Gryffindor common room with a shout. Several heads raise at the noise, some students even drawing their wands in worry.

Piers points a finger right at Gloria and says, “You. Come with me.” His tone brooks no room for argument.

A wave of “ooohs” trails after Gloria as she follows him, her Ancient Runes textbook still tucked under one arm.

“What’s going--”

Piers thwacks the top of her head with his wand and casts a quick Disillusionment spell. The sensation of cold egg yolk running down her hair makes her splutter in confusion.

“What are you doing?” she cries, before remembering to hastily add: “S-sir.”

Piers rounds a corner and casts a quick Disillusionment spell on himself. Now neither of them can see each other. Brilliant.

“Your mate,” says Piers in a low voice. “It’s Bede, isn’t it?”

Gloria feels her pulse quicken. Oh, fuck, did that mean something had happened?

Piers takes her silence as confirmation. “‘Course it was,” he sighs, sounding agitated and very unlike his normal self. Gloria wishes she had his facial expressions to work with right now; this whole invisible chin-wag in the corridor is freaking her out.

“Why are we invisible, sir?” she can’t help but ask.

“Because your mate’s about to let a bunch of Death Eaters into th’ bloody school,” Piers snaps.

  
  


-

  
  


Headmaster Rose is missing, and no formal announcement has been issued yet to the entire school. Oleana, the Deputy Headmistress, would be the next candidate to carry out this responsibility, but she’s missing in action too.

“You need t’ find Hop, Marnie, whomever,” Piers tells her as they book it down the hall. Students pass them by laughing and ribbing each other, totally unaware of the chaos that’s about to break out. “Ask Hop t’ contact his bro. Tell ‘im Piers is askin’ for ‘im, an’ it’s an emergency.”

“Got it,” says Gloria, wishing now more than ever she had a bloody smart phone. Hogwarts _really_ needed to get with the times; the complete embargo on electronic devices had infuriated her all of first year, and right now she could really use it. ‘ _How am I supposed to watch The Great British Bake Off now?’_ she had complained to Marnie.

“D’you know where he is?” Piers asks her as they stop by the staircase leading to the next floor.

“I--” Gloria hesitates. “Yes.”

“Then _go_ ,” says Piers. “I need t’ inform th’ other professors an’ make arrangements for our defence.”

Gloria can scarcely feel her face at this point. Fear courses through her, making her light-headed and shaky.

“It’ll be alrigh’,” Piers tells her. Despite his gruff exterior, he’s always been gentle with his students. “An’ please, watch out for Marnie.”


End file.
